


Foxglove

by neonbees



Series: Sylvix Week '19 [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Adapted from RP, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, M/M, Post-War, Sharing a Bed, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 12:17:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21036131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonbees/pseuds/neonbees
Summary: Going travelling with your best friend? Fine. Travelling with your best friend who you've been in love with for half your life? Also okay. Travelling with the love of your life who also happens to be your soul mate? Great. Not having told said love of life that they have the same soulmark thus keeping it a secret for about 7 years? Not so good.





	Foxglove

**Author's Note:**

> co-written with pasywasy
> 
> not quite written for syvlix week, but posted in honor of soulmate day <3  
we just had a great time writing this, and wanted to share!

The war was over, and they’d all begun to move on. After leaving Garreg Mach, Felix’d begun to travel with Sylvain. Their territories overlapped- it was only common sense, Sylvain had said. Felix hadn’t argued too much. Though there was still so much to do, so much to repair and clean up - the bandit raids taking advantage of wartime hadn’t ended with Edelgard’s fall - there was a general weightlessness to the air that hadn’t been there before. And so, here he was, traveling with Sylvain.

His soulmate, though those were not words he would ever say out loud. To speak them would be to admit to them. To admit who’s shared mark he wore on his heart. Like a promise, he could imagine Sylvain saying. Like a curse.

Before Felix’s mark had appeared he’d already heard the other’s thoughts on the matter. _‘It doesn’t matter who my soulmate is, anyway_’ - A direct quote. Sylvain had already been lavishing his attention on women. 

Sylvain had told him, when he got the mark, that it didn’t matter much for him. If it wasn’t on some noblewoman, then his father wouldn’t allow it. It would be better for him to never know, in any case. No use pining over what he couldn’t have. Felix knew it was a fantasy for Sylvain - something to be daydreamed about. Someone who would match him completely. Who he could marry, and have it be for _love_. 

Felix had received his own mark two years later. For Felix, the mark had just been a reminder of what he already felt and what he already knew. That he cared for - was in love with - Sylvain. That there had only ever been one in his heart. He’d thought of Sylvain’s words, and he’d hid it away. When Sylvain had asked, Felix had answered simply (had lied). He had no soulmate mark. 

The only thing he had was a mark tying his friend to a future he wouldn’t allow himself to have. A sword and a chrysanthemum. Wrapped around another.

Right over his heart. 

After a few days had passed traveling with Sylvain, Felix would have expected to say that he was at his wit’s end. Traveling meant that he had to endure Sylvain’s presence for an extended period of time, listening to his damn prattling about shit that Felix couldn't care less about. Which is everything that comes out of Sylvain's mouth. But... It's been strangely comfortable instead. And that just pisses Felix off. 

It itches at him under his skin, and every time his... ‘Nervous habit’ of scratching over that mark appears he barely suppresses a scream. So, despite the general pleasantness of their travelling together, Felix has been in a foul mood. 

It sucks too, that there's nothing to do except sit on horseback as they go around the country. The only time Felix gets any reprieve from Sylvain is when he hunts - and he absolutely demands to hunt alone, and be the one that does it every dinner time they need any meat. Which does not happen nearly enough. He'll never admit to purposely missing shots just to stay alone longer. 

For Sylvain, things are different now: The war was over, and he had never felt his head so clear. It was like a crushing weight had been lifted off his shoulders- his death no longer an expected result. He'd survived this war, and after Rodrigue, there had been no more losses from those he was close too. Dimitri had finally stepped into the mantle of a king. 

Sure, there was work to do and rebellions to suppress, and rebuilding was so much harder than destroying, but that wasn't the point- they'd all lived. It was a time for change for new things. It didn't feel so much like his crest was a dagger at his heart, his bloodline a poison in his veins. And while he felt like that, he'd relish it. So on his travels with Felix, he chatted about anything and everything. The way the sunset looked, the shape of that cloud (like a beautiful woman, doesn't it- those curves!? ), the feeling of the wind in his hair. There is little to do and little to bother him.

It's both a blessing and a curse that he's able to talk without really thinking about it, so accustomed to lying and beguiling throughout his life that he can respond while his mind is on other things. Because when he's chatting about the day or the forest, he's thinking about Felix, and what he'll do next. He's thinking about the way Felix looks on horseback, fierce and proud, a far cry from his early riding days. He misses the time when Felix used to whine to him. But still, he wouldn't trade his friend for the world- even if he is prickly now, all spine and no softness.

Felix is currently glaring ahead as he usually does, his horse slightly in front of Sylvain's because he won't ride side by side with him, when a loud noise rings out over the plains. Felix's bow is in his hands with an arrow knocked before he's even caught sight of the smoke on the horizon. "Finally," Felix grumbles under his breath. He takes the reigns loosely in his hand with the bow and sends his horse to a gallop without even acknowledging Sylvain. He expects anyone they meet to be pretty low-tier in comparison to the hell they just went through.

When they - Felix does cast a quick glance behind him to make sure he was followed - arrive, it's pretty easy to see what's going on. The bandits are, as always, loud and obvious to spot. Despite the bow being in his hands, he only fires one arrow (100% accuracy) before gracefully dismounting his horse and unsheathing his sword in one swoop. If there's any words to be exchanged, he leaves it to Sylvain, and rushes the bandit closest to him, barely knocking a crying village woman out of the guy's hands before his sword is slid into the guy's stomach. And so Felix moves on.

The sight of smoke and the sound of metal take Sylvain's mind off of his traveling companion and into the present. His first thought is not to help or to save- it is that Felix will be happy to fight again. His little tells were so obvious to Sylvain. He nudges his horse into a gallop, using his thighs to steer the beast as he frees up his hand for his lance. It is not the Lance of Ruin, though he can feel the relic pulsing at his back. "Villagers, stay back," he calls out, a broad smile on his face, "We'll handle this." He gives a nod to the woman Felix had just rescued and ditched in the same breath, before moving on to continue the fight.

The battle sings through his veins and Felix feels something light unravel in his chest, an itch scratched. It feels good, he thinks about nothing but the fight while his sword sings through the air, a satisfied look on his face. A trail of bloodied bodies left behind him, dragged out from the houses they're pillaging, hands taken from the villagers they're holding. More like a massacre than a battle, but it will do. Unfortunately, there are too few bandits. An annoyed pang in his chest causes Felix face to twist in disgust. 

He shoots a look over his shoulder to Sylvain - he doesn't usually look around for his allies during battle, but - and barks a "Sylvain!" When he notices the redhead isn't watching his fucking flank, where a man wielding an axe is quickly approacing. Felix’s attention is stolen away to block the sword swung at him, but he quickly jerks his head back, eyes wide. Sylvain- what is he _thinking?_

Compared to the woman-beast-emperor- they'd just fought, this is nothing. In fact, most of the bandits outright flee when they notice how swiftly they're cut down, Felix blazing a path with steel and violence. Sylvain does more of the talking, offering a kind word and a genial smile to those they are saving. His meager experience in Faith proves useful and he manages to patch some of the minor wounds. Still, his eyes never stray far from Felix.

It proves dangerous for him. Sylvain is in fact, not watching his fucking flank. But even with his distraction, his senses aren't completely useless. Still, it is very hard to dodge on a horse. He takes the blow to his leg, even as he jabs out with his lance, eliminating the foe. It's a weak strike against his armor, but fuck if it doesn't hurt. He'll have a nasty bruise there tomorrow. He scans for more enemies- he's clear- and then he looks for Felix. Because if Felix noticed, he was going to hear about it. 

Loudly. Maybe he'd get an offer for another hug, though? Or maybe he'll be smothered in his sleep. The odds are about fifty-fifty. Sylvain pulled free his lance, riding closer to the village itself. He wanted to get down off the horse and help out with the clean up, but there was a very real chance that he'd stumble. The village girl that Felix had rescued makes his way over, offering her thanks and help with his injury to his leg. "You're too kind- a beautiful face and a beautiful heart? I'm just happy we were able to help." He grins back at her, feeling the stirrings of hunger. She'd offer to look at his leg, he'd let her, and he'd let her 'healing hands' move elsewhere... How opposed was Felix to staying the night here, he wondered? Sex was one of his constant escapes, though even that had become unimportant in face of the war they'd been facing. And afterwards, always with Felix- well, that was a very different sort of hardness he'd faced.

Felix noticed. He'd also noticed that it was only a weak strike, but a strike Sylvain shouldn't have taken. Felix's distraction costs him more than it had Sylvain- and he takes a nasty blow to his shoulder before he runs his sword through the man in front of him. Before the body drops from his sword, he's looking for the next person, despite the blood seeping into his shirt from the new cut but -- there's no one. 

Anger curdles low in Felix's gut. Anger at them for being so fucking weak, anger at there not being more, anger at Sylvain always. He spits on the ground, wiping the blood on his sword off on his sleeve and sheathing it. Felix waits where he is for Sylvain's horse to come closer, but only long enough to make sure that Sylvain knows Felix isn't happy, by the look of anger on his face. After that he stalks off, going to fetch his own horse that he'd left out of the fray, abandoning Sylvain to deal with the village people. His shoulder throbs and the cut stings but he couldn't care less, he doesn't want to deal with it that point. Thankfully most of the townsfolk seem put off by his expression and don't approach him for anything. 

He leads his horse back to where Sylvain is, looking around the town. It doesn't seem too damaged, most of the people picking themselves off the street. He's already overhearing an offer to have them stay the night in an inn free of charge. That would be nice... He had a quick bath in the river, but it would be good to get this new grime off of him. A mattress is always a blessing too. Felix rolls his injured shoulder, barely twitching at the tearing pain, a new glob of blood sliding down his chest. Well, his shirt hasn't been white for a long time anyway so it doesn't bother him. He waits, impatiently, for Sylvain to get this over with.

The after-battle is a well-practiced art at this point. Sylvain's charm earns them a place to stay (and maybe it was also Felix's prowess in battle too). He helps direct the clean-up too, dealing with the bodies that Felix and he had left. Sylvain finally gets off his horse, wincing at the pressure on his leg, but it isn't too bad. He's had much worse, after all. 

He's discussing recovery strategies and ways to fend off future bandits when Felix rejoins him. A sideways glance turns into something more when he sees the blood on Felix's shirt- this close, he can see the rip in the fabric that accompanies it. It's not only the bandit's blood that spilled. It's Felix's. Maybe he should have used the Lance after all. "Excuse me for a moment- I'll discuss the offer with my companion. He might not look it, but he's grateful. As am I," he winks at her before turning fully around, the warmness of his expression melting into something resembling true concern. 

"Felix, your shoulder," he frowns, "Are you out of Vulnerary already? Let me take a look at that." The fact that Felix had been injured at all- and that he'd just left it, form a knot in the pit of his stomach. He'd stick closer to Felix, next time. He'd whether all of the blows meant for Felix. A horse was a much bigger target, right? "They're offering to let us stay the night. For no cost at that- We should take it. It'll give me a good chance to look at your shoulder anyway."

He catches Felix very obviously rolling his eyes at him, and it seems to deepen at Sylvain’s expression. As if it’s annoyance for him to be concerned for Felix. He looks as if he’s tasted something foul. Sylvain wishes he could wipe the expression away, even as he waits for his response.

"Fine." Felix grunts, then amends. "Staying," he says, ignoring Sylvain’s desire to look at his shoulder, pointedly shooting him a look at the leg he's favouring. And then he’s moving closer to Sylvain, taking his knife from the middle of his back and cutting off a rough strip from Sylvain's underskirt and resheathing the knife. The surprise prevents him from moving as he sees Felix loop it under his armpit, over his shoulder and fastening it tightly. And then, Felix has the gall to raise his hands and eyebrows in a fixed gesture, despite the makeshift bandage already being bled through. Felix turns to the lady Sylvain was talking to. "Lead the way," he says blandly - well, more of a demand. 

Sylvain offers the woman a smile as she glances over, looking to him for a cue and not wanting to leave him or obey Felix. "We're staying," he smiled back to the villager, "Thank you so much for the kindness. We really appreciate that." He meets her gaze, matching her look with one of his own, "I'm happy that even with circumstances like this, I was able to meet such a kind heart." His gaze shifts to Felix's back, unable to keep his attention in her with his friend on his mind. As quick as his smile, he was after Felix, following at his heels, "I could have taken that off and given it to you, you know. It unties."

“I know it does,” Felix replies back, smug. Sylvain slaps Felix's stupid ponytail. Dastard. "My outfit," he complains, no real heat to his words. Though Felix is still angry, he makes sure to shoot Sylvain a smirk.

Their hosts were nice, at least, he reflects as he follows Felix and the man. Sylvain's sure he had their names at one point, though they slip his mind. He really should get better at that. He thinks of his mark then- what if he met his soulmate on the road, and he didn't even bother learning about them? He feels freer than ever, and yet he still can't be bothered to learn the names of those he spends the night with. Especially traveling like this, it's hard to think around Felix in his mind. "When we get a room, you're letting me look at your arm," he warns.

Felix coaxes his horse into the stables attached to the inn. He starts to take off the tack, raising his arms to unlatch it but a tear or pain from his shoulder stops him halfway. His lip curls and he lowers his arm. It's not bad right now, it's at the point Felix can ignore the steady throb of pain, but that doesn't mean it can't get worse. He glances at the saddle bags. There's no way trying to carry them won't make it worse. 

Felix sighs, shooting Sylvain a look again before going to root around in the bags, pulling out a vulenary. "Make yourself useful instead and find out where our rooms are," he says flatly. He downs the vulenary, a shudder going through him as the concoction slides down his throat. It works fast and he can feel his wound tingle. He looks down to watch the wound close - his muscle reknitting and the flesh crawling back over it. Watching healing balms or magic work always stirs a sick interest in him. He rolls his shoulder, glancing at it. It still hurts but at least it won't open more. Probably. 

He starts unlatching the bridle again, relieving his horse of its burden and taking off the saddlebags.

They pack the horses away in a companionable silence, and though Sylvain keeps most of his attention on his work, some of it is spent checking on Felix. He wouldn't be able to wait for Felix ask for help, after all. Felix kept all of his emotions and pain pushed so deep. It was what made getting a rise out of him much more fun, and what him worry so much. 

His leg doesn't hamper him all too much, and he finishes his task before Felix. "I could make myself useful by taking care of you," he responds, a mild frown on his expression as he watches the other down the potion. Better than nothing, at least. "Trying to get rid of me - are you sick of my handsome face already?" Sylvain points, but acquiesces and exits. He pauses at the door, calling back, "Don't bleed out while I'm away, alright? I'll be right back." Sylvain is lucky he takes that moment to run away because he leaves Felix glaring out the door where he's disappeared. He can't even get in a word edgewise with how fucking much the other talks.

The room, Sylvain discovers, contains a single bed. It's the largest room in the inn, to be true, and the bed is truly an impressive thing, but it's still only one. Sylvain had been hoping for a little privacy. He wonders if that woman he'd run into expected him to be sleeping in her bed. Did Felix still kick in his sleep? It was hard to notice, out in the open. But a bed was a bed. The last time he'd had such nice sleeping conditions had been Garreg Mach. 

Returning to Felix's side, Sylvain opens with a smile, "I've brought back news! I think we can get some heated water here- And we've got a nice room. With an actual bed! However, there is what you call a 'downside'. It’s just one bed. Don't worry Felix, I'm good at sharing."

Felix quietly seethes, barely paying attention to Sylvain's words. "Whatever. I take first shower," he says. To be honest, he doesn't care that much about having to share, as long as it's with someone like Sylvain or Ingrid, someone that he knows.  
Felix picks up the saddle bags, his face twitching as his shoulder protests, and roughly shoulders past Sylvain, making sure he jostles the other, and heads inside the inn. 

“Don't waste all the hot water, or I'm getting in with you, Sylvain calls after him, picking up his own bags and following Felix into the room. 

They’re pointed up to the room that they're apparently sharing - ugh he can't seem to escape Sylvain no matter what - and dumps the bags on the floor. He glances at the bed but all he thinks about how nice it will be to pass out on it. With a sigh he starts taking off his cloak, outergarments, swords. Well... Taking off one sword and leaving the other around his waist. 

When he's just in his undertop and pants he looks down at the injury on his shoulder. It looks pretty good, seeing as it wasn't a big deal, there is nice pink healing skin over it, it won't scar badly because he didn't get to it too late. It will be sore for a while though... He digs his fingers into the muscle with a sigh.

Sylvain removes what's left of his underskirt - seriously, Felix, green dye was expensive - and beginning to remove his armor. It will probably be needed to be cleaned, too. That might be the worst part of traveling, Sylvain thought. Without a second thought, he organizes Felix's things as well even as he discards them, hanging his cloak and collecting his outergarments to wash. 

It's after the room is presentable (to his standards, anyway), that he turns back to Felix, taking in his friend's appearance. He cares for him so much it almost hurts. Friendship to the death, he thinks. Sylvain places his hand over his own soulmate mark. He can't really imagine caring for someone else as much as he does Felix. And yet, he will. Sometimes he loves the idea of soulmates and sometimes he hates it. Fate and Inheritance- there's a lot of similarities between the two. But the idea of an other half is one he appreciates. It's usually some faceless woman in his dreams. But if he thinks too hard about it, he pictures Felix. A practiced hand at ignoring his feelings, Sylvain adjusts his expression into something less lovestruck and rejoins Felix, grabbing hold of his hand, "Stop poking at it," he rolls his eyes. "You'll end up poking the wound, or worse. If you really have to touch it, rub some ointment on it. We should have some left, I think?"

When Sylvain takes his hand, Felix grunts and tilts his head to the side, looking up at Sylvain from under his fringe, an annoyed expression on his face like usual. He doesn't mind Sylvain standing so close, they've been friends for a long time, rough housing, being in each other's space, and touching like this is fine, is easy, so he doesn't bother to try and move his hand from Sylvain's grip. "Don't waste the ointment," he grumbles, like they're not both incredibly wealthy. Seems like Ingrid's rubbed off on him a bit. No, it’s more like the chore of going out to replenish supplies annoys him. 

"It's not wasting it if you're using it for it's intended purpose," Sylvain rolls his eyes, but he doesn't release Felix's hand. He knows he should, at this point. Sometimes he finds himself taking little excuses just to touch Felix. But he makes the choice for Sylvain, shoving his hand back, pushing a hand into his chest, the spark of anger in his eyes reignited. What was it this time, Sylvain wonders. 

"And what the fuck did you think you were doing? Watching a damn show? Did you forget how to swing your lance?" He sneers. He takes out his hair and runs his fingers through it, going to his pack and digging through it. "You watch me all the damn time, it's so fucking annoying, you think I can't protect myself? You're the one that ends up hurt every single time," he says, barely glancing over his shoulder at Sylvain.

"I know how to swing a lance," he replies, stupidly, watching Felix. He really did do that a lot, didn't he? He couldn't help it, though. If something happened to Felix- he couldn't imagine the thought. It's why he'd taken that blow for him in the past, even if it had nearly killed him. And he'd do it again and again. Instead, he smiles, "Sorry, sorry. But I'd just like to point out that you're the one with the injury, here." If he took every criticism from Felix seriously, he was sure wouldn't have any self-respect left. Not that he'd had much in the first place. He's watching the way Felix looks in those pants, bending down to go through his bags. He gets up to find the ointment, knowing he'd really be in for it if Felix caught him looking at him again. "I know it's serious," finding the small vial quickly. 

It was kind of cute, he thought, how Felix spent so much time digging through his bag. "You can ream me out while I put this on you. Come sit on the bed. I'll put this on you."

Felix twitches, annoyance ratcheting higher, at the easy dismissal of his words from Sylvain. Like everything's a joke to him. He pauses in his searching of the bag, pulling out a fresh top. "Yeah, and who's fault is this injury?" He says, low and accusing. "Because I had to waste time looking back to make sure your sorry ass didn't die," he snaps. He doesn't know why he's saying this, he feels like it’s the twentieth time he’s repeated himself. It just pisses him off so much that Sylvain always acts like he wants to protect Felix, and then ends up being unable to protect himself.

"And I'm taking responsibility for it," Sylvain responds immediately, then pauses. "Ugh- It's. I am sorry, Felix. I don't want you to get distracted and injured because of me. I don't mean for that to happen- I just want you to be safe. Don't worry. I've made it this far, haven't I?" And because he has excellent decision-making skills, he winks at Felix, earnestness fading into something more playful. It's been a change. Fighting because he had little to live for. And then fighting to make a new future. "I know you'll keep my 'sorry ass' safe. But I can protect myself- it's not like the Professor didn't teach us anything. Even without my lance, I have fire and you on my side. What can get through that?"

The apology does mollify Felix a little, though he doubts it will change much. He scowls at the wink, grabbing Sylvain's jaw, finger and thumb pressing into his cheeks on either side and roughly shaking his head from side to side in punishment for the wink. "Asshole," he grumbles. "Keep pace or I'll leave you behind," he warns. Because Felix knows better than anyone that he's no good at protecting. He's more likely to cut up anything precious to him at the same time. Felix will just have to destroy everything before it can get close to Sylvain.

He huffs and knocks his knuckle against Sylvain's forehead. "You can do what you want to it," he says, gesturing to the healing skin, "after my shower." With that he leaves Sylvain's face alone, abuse already enacted, and wanders off into the adjacent bathroom.

Despite only getting one room, it's clear they got the best room seeing as plumbing facilities must be far and few between but they have a private one. Though it's very tiny and there isn't a bath, there's a shower, and Felix much prefers that. Especially with how grimy he is, he wouldn't want to be soaking in his own filth. He pulls off his shirt, absently rubbing his knuckles over the middle of his chest, over _that_ before leaving his sleep shirt on a hook and turning the water on. 

He doesn't usually take too long to bathe, but it's too good under the hot water. The pressure is about as weak as rain, but it's good enough, and he looks down to see blood and dirt swirling down the drain. He stays in long enough to wonder if Sylvain would actually try to make good on his threat to come in the shower, then remembers why that would be a very bad idea. He sighs and turns the water off, grabbing one of those linen towels on the rack and roughly drying his torso. He pulls the shirt over his head, and exits the bathroom while he dries his legs. He wonders over to his bags to grabs some underwear and pulls it on then dries his hair more thoroughly.

Sylvain rubs the side of his face and thinks of Felix holding him in a different way. "After his shower, he says," Sylvain rolls his eyes, laying back on their bed for the night. "Ugh." He doesn't spend much time there though, taking the opportunity to clean his armor while Felix is away. It's a long process, and by the time he's done, Felix still isn't back. 

Sylvain thinks of making good on his threat, and walking into Felix in the shower. He'd press him against the wall and wrap his hands around his pretty little waist. When Felix isn't in the same room as him, he allows his mind to wander. It doesn't feel so much like he's ruining his friend with his thoughts. Because that's what he does want to do, if he's honest with himself. What would his soulmate think of him? They're out there, he knows. Do they think of him too? Or is there someone that they care for, not giving their soulmate any thought. Too many raunchy thoughts about his best friend. He seriously needed to get laid. His thoughts run in circles. 

He makes his way to the bathroom, ready to knock on the door and enter if need be, only to run almost right into Felix, who just pushes past him on his way to his bags. Felix is... Sylvain has always found Felix gorgeous. From the color of his hair to the shape of his legs and everything in between. The way his thighs look, covered in scars and faded bruises, making Sylvain want to kiss them. He wants to leave his own mark. Instead, he sighs, "Took you long enough- I was about to see if you'd drowned. If all the warm water's gone, see if I help you with that shoulder." 

Felix tilts his head back to reply, but Sylvain's already disappeared into the shower. He raises his eyebrows, but turns back to his bag. He doesn't bother to put anything else on, and doesn't bother to clean up his back. He's sure Sylvain will do it for him later. Felix spares a quick glance for Sylvain's armour as he passes, and picks up one of the plates, rubbing his fingers over it and then putting it down, satisfied that Sylvain's cleaned it. 

Felix flops on the bed, head at the foot and feet pushed under the pillows, less than gracefully. He rolls up the sleeve to his shoulder, baring the somewhat closed wound for Sylvain to do what he wants while Felix is laying like this, so that Felix doesn't have to move. His good arm tucks behind his head to pillow it and he closes his eyes. He's not going to sleep, of course, but it's nice to lay like this on a proper mattress. 

Absently, without thinking much of it, he listens to the water fall. The sound of it hitting Sylvain's body then falling onto the floor, the sound changing when the other shifts. Felix opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling for a few moments before closing them again, his fingers rubbing over his chest.

Sylvain’s shower is a quick, efficient thing. His shower is the press of his head against the tile, hand on his cock as he thinks of Felix's legs and his ass and just him, blushing and panting underneath him. When he's spent, he washes himself twice as well. He wishes he knew what his soulmate looked like. Even if he didn't know them- it wasn't right to Felix, for Sylvain to want him so badly. They were friends, and nothing more.

When he gets out of the shower, the water is cold. He dries his hair first then runs a hand through it, taking the opportunity to give it a semblance of style. He dries his body off next, wrapping the towel around his waist before getting back to the room. 

There’s a little light from the single lamp in the room. It casts long shadows on Felix’s back, painting him in soft warm shades. The way his hair, long and gorgeous, lays across the bed makes him feel a bit like he is looking at a painting. He’s always enjoyed looking at art. 

Seeing Felix with his shoulder bared makes him feel warm low in his stomach. He quietly walks through the room, dropping the towel to switch to briefs. He picks up his and Felix’s things and hangs their towels before finally grabbing the ointment and sitting next on the bed. “I’ve missed this,” he hums his contentment, squishing the pillows under his fingers. “I think these might be down- looks like we’re getting lucky tonight, Felix.” 

He stops fondling the pillows to do it to Felix instead. Sylvain checks the wound, touching the skin around it with his fingers. It’s much fainter now, the vulnerary having taken effect. Still, he can tell how deep it was. If he looks hard, he can still see the blood. “You’ll definitely have some stiffness in this tomorrow. I know it’ll be hard, but can you do only half a normal routine? And slowly? Some exercise will be good, but too much and I think you might end up pulling the muscle.” He stops touching Felix only to spread some of the ointment on his fingers, a thick herbal paste that reminds Sylvain of something else. Much more gently, he spreads a layer across the line of the wound, only rubbing it in when he wasn’t touching just the injury.

When Felix feels Sylvain's fingers on his shoulder. He doesn't tense, instead he relaxes. Felix has always liked Sylvain's hands, he's good with them, and they're strong. Even with the callouses that come from lance wielding- No, because of the callouses. He likes the feel of them. It's a pity he won't feel much on scar tissue. 

He snorts again, just a soft huff of air exhaled from his nose. "You're wasting breath, and you know it," he says. His words are quiet between them, softer for the small amount of distance. He can feel the heat radiating off Sylvain from beside him. He sighs when Sylvain's fingers rub into his shoulder, muscles loosening and sinking into the bed. His lips part in a quiet groan, the frown falling away from his face. "You treating me to dinner, or going to someone else?" he mumbles, his head turning to the side - towards Sylvain and gently bumping against Sylvain’s hip. 

Sylvain finishes rubbing in the ointment and wipes the rest off on Felix's thigh, just to annoy him. He gets a swift kick in return. "It's not a waste of breath," he rolls his eyes, even though the other can't see him. "One day you might actually listen! Or I might say something important- who knows what will happen first." Sylvain sits against the headboard of the bed, stretching out his own shoulders. "Hmm. Dinner. I'd kind of forgotten about that. I didn't really see a lot of variety in town- our best bet is going to be the inn here."

The atmosphere is languid and the lamplight is dim, and Felix looks so ridiculous with his face half mushed against the bed that Sylvain can't help but want to tease him. He reaches underneath Felix, hooking his arms underneath the other's armpits to pull him up and hold him against his chest. Sylvain buries his head against his neck, "Trying to get rid of me? 'Someone else', how fast do you think I can move? I give a girl a look, and she's falling into my bed? I wish!" The only kind of girls like that were those that wanted something else from him. Fucking someone like that always gave him pleasure in the worst sort of way.

But there was the good kind of sex too. The kind where he could use someone else's softness for the night, and he could cherish and love and then break in the same day. His hand worked in a pinch, but there really was no true substitute. He hadn't wanted to go out - that's why he'd had his time in the shower - but holding Felix in his arms was making him want in all the worst ways.

Felix grunts, his eyes opening and blinking blearily at he's manhandled. The worst part... The worst part is that he doesn't mind it. (No, the worst part is that he likes it). Still, he reaches behind himself to roughly tug at Sylvains hair in punishment. His shoulders twitch and he tenses at Sylvain face in his neck, his heart rate kicking up a notch. He's not sure if Sylvain knows the nape of his neck has always been a bit weirdly sensitive. Felix tugs Sylvain to the side using his hair so he can relax back into the others chest. "You know that's exactly what happens," he says blandly, belatedly. "So is that a no? When are we going down?" he asks, absently tugging Sylvains hair again, then his fingers rubbing at the base of Sylvains skull

Sylvain's glad Felix can't see his face. He's not sure his expression would be anything but honest enjoyment. And he's certain Felix would call him out for enjoy the feeling of him pulling his hair far too much. "Yeah?" he chuckles, more of a rumble than anything else. "Wouldn't you know? You never come out with me when I'm picking up girls. I invite you all the time."

He sighs, snuggling up to Felix while he still has the excuse of Felix's hands in his hair holding him close. He wraps his arms around Felix's waist, letting him guide his head where he wants. Felix's fingers are strong. The hands of a swordsman, of a brawler, of a friend. "How am I supposed to go down when you make it so hard to leave?" It's said playfully, like he says anything else, but he thinks he means it. "I'll go down whenever you ask."

When Sylvain chuckles, Felix can feel the rumble of his laugh from Sylvains chest to his own. "Why would I come with you? Watch you spew shit and then prance off with some girl? The question is why you invite me, knowing I'd call you out on your shit and ruin your game." he says, voice annoyed. He pulls his hand away from Sylvains hair and wrinkles his nose at the clinging dampness and mutters "Gross." he wipes the wetness on Sylvains thigh. Then he gets distracted by a scar on the bare thigh and pushes his fingers into it. He wonders if he remembers this one. 

He rolls his eyes to address the second part of Sylvain’s words, sighing his fingers deeper into Sylvains thigh. "You can go down and bring up food so I don't have to move," he says. That being said... He also doesn't want Sylvain to move from this position right now. He hates how much he likes the others arms around him, strong and tight. Sylvains warmth everywhere. Damn it

"No, no, I wouldn't ditch you like that," even though he'd skipped training sessions for girls in the past, but that was so long ago now, "I'd find you a girl first! Then we'd both be satisfied. Or I can share." The idea gets him more interested than he'd care to admit. "Would you be interested in that? I think it'd be fun." Felix's fingers dig into his thigh, eliciting a shiver through Sylvain. 

And it really shows how he cannot possibly imagine what goes through Felix's mind. Is it a reprimand, is it a want? It's probably the former, considering what he just asked of him. But the idea sticks in his mind. Or maybe it's just Felix. Sylvain clamps his thighs down around Felix, trying to prevent his hands from digging in harder. "Stop that," he whines, not meaning it. "I'll go get the food, I swear. Let me go see what they have."

Well, now that Sylvain told him to stop, it's a challenge. It helps that Felix is effectively pinned, Sylvains arms keeping him in place, his strong thighs pressing against Felix's. It doesn't help that Felix wants to be nowhere else but here right now. He snorts, digging both his hands into Sylvains thighs, either side. First on the outside and then on his inner thighs. "Share a girl with me," he mocks, "You must really need to get laid to suggest something like that. Are your balls blue? Wimp," he snickers, turning his fingers so his nails dig in too. Meanwhile his chest revolts at the idea, but he's already come to terms with things like that. At his worst he thinks of Sylvain with those girls like that and he feels sick. But he's been used to it for a long time.

"Hey," he protests, "It's not that bad of an idea." But then again, he's not ever really seen Felix with a girl- outside of the training ground, where he fought anyone who was good enough, regardless of gender. Maybe Felix was just a virgin- and embarrassed about it? He likes the idea, the more he thinks about it. And the more he doesn't want to share. 

But then again, Felix might not even be interested in men- he's never seen him with a boy, either. He's thoughts run in circles, pointless, and so Sylvain shoves them aside. "I'm not a wimp- Also, you'd know if I had blue balls." He hikes his hips up, pressing against Felix. He's so glad he masturbated in the shower previously. "Besides, when's the last time you got laid?" Sylvain takes Felix's amusement and lack of focus as an opportunity to try and push him onto his chest, moving forward himself and pressing Felix down. "I don't see you coming up with suggestions. C'mon, I dare you. What kind of date would you enjoy?"

"It is a bad idea," Felix snorts. If not only because he probably wouldn't get it up with a girl between them and a disgust in his chest, unless he stared at Sylvain or something. And that would be way too telling. Felix cannot fathom why Sylvain could be pushing it other than a joke. 

"Bastard," he grunts when he feels Sylvain crotch press into the small of his back. He can't do much from this position except yank Sylvains hair again. He huffs when he's pushed down and this... Is getting a bit dangerous now. Felix can feel the heat start to warm his cheeks. "You're walking a thin line," he warns him, dragging his fingernails deep up Sylvains thighs to leave bright red lines. (It's a good look). "Dare me to what?" he says, wriggling ineffectually. "The kind of date that involves swords," he answers, mostly mocking the question.

This is either a very good thing or a very bad thing. He hears Felix's voice telling him its a bad idea- and that's what this looks like for him. A very bad idea. A very bad idea would be kissing Felix's neck, reaching up under his shirt and touching him in any way he can. A very bad idea is how he's staring at Felix's bare thighs.

"Swords are very rarely sexy," Sylvain comments with the air of an expert. The feeling of Felix's nails on his thighs his driving him wild. He wishes he cared about Felix less. It'd be so much easier, if he didn't care about hurting him. Instead, Sylvain rolls off of Felix, missing the bed, and making the rest of the distance to land on the floor with a thump. It's cold- Sylvain hadn't realized how hot Felix was making him until then. He briefly considers just laying there. "Now look what you've done," he accuses, pout audible in his voice. 

The cold of the floor helps clear the desire from his mind, and hunger sets in. He's going to find food for Felix, and then he's going to go find a different bed to sleep in. His restraint feels thin tonight.

"Swords are the sexiest," Felix counters back, amused. The amusement peaks and he laughs meanly when Sylvain smacks into the floor. And Felix hadnt even had to do anything. He swings his legs over the bed, pressing his feet into Sylvain shoulders to keep him pressed into the floor. "This is a good look for you," he jeers, pressing his feet into the muscles of Sylvains back and maybe glancing at his ass a little. But only a little.

"Let me counter. I have a lance, and I am very sexy. Conclusion? Lances are sexier. Where's your evidence, Felix?" Sylvain wriggles, managing to turn onto his back, though Felix still pressed down against him. And with that, he yanks, Felix's ankles an easy target.

Felix had expected this. And because he expected it, his knee lands, with a very vicious thunk, very obviously close to Sylvains... Lance. An inch up and Sylvain would never pass on his precious Crest. He has a vicious grin on his face, the kind that looks a little blood thirsty and he leans down. "You don't think my sword is sexy, Sylvain?" he coos, voice ringing with amusement. "Disappointing. Though there's no accounting for taste," he says, flicking Sylvains forehead then getting up, shaking his feet free of Sylvains hands and stepping over him. He pulls on a pair of pants and ties up his hair, looking over his shoulder to savour the image of Sylvain prone on the floor.

"You play dirty," Sylvain bemoans, a shiver running through his entire body. And not the good kind. But damn if he doesn't like the way Felix's face looks like that, intense and hungry for his pain. He wants to give Felix everything- he's his friend. His closest, he'd say. Sylvian gets up, eyeing Felix's back. He doesn't want to give Felix the pleasure of the last word. So, before he himself gets dressed, he stalks over to Felix, pressing against him from behind, one hand just above the other's groin and the other holding him still. His lips brush against Felix's ears, "For the record? I find your sword very sexy."

He drops Felix just as quick, hopefully avoiding getting hit, humming to himself as he goes to find his own clothing.

Sylvain wasn't subtle, Felix knew he was coming up behind him but somehow he didn't expect that Sylvain did next. Again pressed against Sylvains warm, wide back, Sylvains large hands spanned over his skin and pressing, his voice low and close to Felix ear. The words are lost on him as he whirls around, elbow positioned and pointed, a beat too late. His face has an angry flush on it and he points at Sylvain threateningly. "You better run," he warns. 

Sylvain laughs, throwing on casual wear, not running from Felix's anger. It's fun to get a rise out of him- and the angry flush on his face is delicious. "I'm running, I swear." He does nothing of the sort. He hesitates over grabbing a weapon. When not wrapped up in Felix, the war weighs on his mind. In the end, he decides against it. It's not like he's completely unharmed without a weapon. Sylvain takes special care in making sure the Lance of Ruin is properly put away. He does not want anyone touching it- it throbs at his fingertips, the smaller blades moving. Sometimes, he's not sure that it's not responding to his own emotions. 

Despite his warning, all Felix does is look at Sylvain before dismissing it. He walks past Sylvain, shoulder jostling the other man and he buckles a sword around his hip and leaves the room. He quickly goes down the stairs and heads into the front room of the inn, toward the bar in front of the kitchen. He orders two plates of whatever, pushing money across the bar and sliding into one if the stools to wait.


End file.
